


shut up and kiss me already

by bickz



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Ceridwen Peredur, Come Swallowing, Deepthroating, Eventual Fluff, Jasper Roscoe, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 15:11:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20260135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bickz/pseuds/bickz
Summary: Ceridwen expresses his affection in one way only.





	shut up and kiss me already

**Author's Note:**

> a gross thing i wrote some time ago. blow jobs are fun

Moments of absolute solitude are a scarcity in the hellscape known as Barovia. Even when you think you’re completely alone, some fucking hag or werewolf or vampire or a godsforsaken animated plant pops up to ruin your day. So, when Ceridwen  _ finally  _ finds himself and Jasper in one of those fabled instances of total privacy (used subjectively here), you damn well better believe that he’s taking advantage of it.

Or, more specifically, is taking advantage of said barbarian.

Ceridwen is in his favourite spot in the whole wide world -- on his knees in front of an insanely hot, mind blowingly ravishing, utterly delectable piece of ass (incidentally, also his favourite plaything), Jasper. Both of them still have all of their clothes on, but for how breathless and whiny Ceridwen already is, you’d think they were on their third round or so.

“Do you have to be so loud? The others--”

“--will enjoy the free show, babe,” Ceridwen interjects as he takes a handful of the tiefelf and squeezes him gently to shut him up, to make him forget about the rest of their party resting not ten feet away, to erase any doubts or fears swirling in that beautiful head of his.

Jasper tries so very hard to muffle the groan that reverberates in his chest. He brings a hand up over his mouth, closes his eyes and lets his head rest back against the tree behind him because he knows that if he watches he definitely won’t be able to keep himself quiet. Ceridwen takes pride in that, eats up the hushed praise with a content hum as he nuzzles against the barbarian’s still clothed cock, mouths along its length through his pants. He’ll never get over how easy it is for him to tear down Jasper’s barriers, to undo him with such lethal precision. Lust has never tasted so damn good.

“Ceri,  _ please, _ ” Jasper grumbles from behind his palm, sounding deliciously pained. 

And what kind of lover would Ceridwen be if he didn’t indulge Jasper? He’d be the worst scum if he didn’t hook his fingers in the tiefelf’s trousers, if he didn’t slowly pull down the offending piece of clothing until that eager cock springs free, already swollen and dripping, and there would certainly be a special place in Hell for Ceridwen if he didn’t give said dick an appreciative lick from base to tip the first chance he got.

Jasper shudders above him, the muscles in his abdomen and thighs quivering under Ceridwen’s careful attention. There’s no other place the bard would rather be -- even though they’re in the middle of Barovia’s treacherous wilderness, constantly hunted by Strahd’s henchmen, trapped in some alternative dimension with no hope of escape, fooling around by the light of the fire while their party slumbers because there’s no better place for them to vent their frustrations. It’s sad and pathetic and horrible, but this is the happiest Ceridwen could ever be.

“Hun, I’m sorry--’m close,” Jasper warns not ten minutes into their fervent escapades, his voice husky, broken, his every muscle tensed and straining to keep composure while Ceridwen presses sweet kisses to the head of his dick.

The only acknowledgement the tiefelf gets is a trembling whimper as Ceridwen swallows him down, shamelessly horny; this is absolutely his favourite part, and they’re both disgustingly aware of it. Without further warning, Jasper is coming undone, biting hard into his hand as he thrusts himself down Ceridwen’s welcoming throat, tangling his other hand into that perfectly tousled hair to keep the drow in place as he greedily takes every pulse. Their eyes lock as Jasper finishes with a grunt, breathing hard and ragged amidst his orgasm, his grip loosening as Ceridwen feels himself getting lightheaded from being choked by his lover’s scrumptious cock. Ceridwen remains in place a few seconds longer, relishing the sticky heat in his throat, not wanting to break the spell that this high puts them under. 

Nevertheless, the need for oxygen wins out and Ceridwen pulls back with a heady gasp. A wild grin spreads across his features, even as Jasper stares down at him with a slightly concerned frown. The tiefelf has never quite liked the idea of Ceridwen choking himself on his dick, but the drow seems to get off on it -- like, really gets off, like Ceridwen is pretty sure he could reach climax from just fucking blowing Jasper -- so who is Jasper to deny him? Especially when it’s something so mutually pleasurable for them both.

“Ceri?” Jasper speaks up, his tone hushed, yet still sorta raspy, interrupting Ceridwen’s momentary high.

“Yea, babe?” Ceridwen mumbles back, wiping absently at the corner of his mouth. He tends to be really messy, particularly so when he’s trying to be quick.

Instead of a verbal reply, Ceridwen feels a calloused hand tenderly caress his cheek, working its way down to the nape of his neck to cradle his head gently. He instinctively leans into the touch, sighing contently and allowing himself to be guided up onto his weary feet, leaning against Jasper’s solid body for support. Even standing, Ceridwen has to crane his head back to meet the tiefelf’s gaze -- just another one of his favourite things about this man.

“You don’t have to do this, y’know?” Jasper murmurs, worry in his tone. “We could wait until we got to a tavern…or just someplace more private. That way I could, um…”

“Return the favour?” Ceridwen supplements, smirking, amused at the barbarian's manners.

“Well, yea. It’s not fair that you’re always, uh…doing  _ this  _ for me. I want to make you feel good, too.” Jasper’s flustered from talking about having sex, even after spilling his load down Ceridwen’s mouth not two seconds ago. It’s really endearing.

“You can always fuck me against a tree, Jas--” Ceridwen begins, characteristically nonchalant.

“Shit, Ceri, I’m not going to do that! You’d get hurt if we-- I-I don’t want to hurt you. I want you, but we could wait-- listen, there’s a tavern not far from here. We’ll convince the others to stay tomorrow night there, you and I can get a room together…and we could, uh--”

“Jasper,” Ceridwen interjects, annoyed.

“W-what?”

“Shut up and kiss me already.”

Jasper opens his mouth, probably to protest, to ramble on about how he feels bad for fucking Ceridwen’s throat without courtesy. But the drow is quicker, getting up on his toes to press his lips against the barbarian’s, to smother his worries with a wet kiss. Ceridwen wastes no time in hooking his arms over Jasper’s shoulders, molding their bodies closer as if they were made for each other, feeling the tiefelf’s spent cock twitch with interest between them as he lets out a surprised groan. All fears of being too loud and waking their party flitter away like the fire’s embers as they let themselves succumb to their lust, to their frustrations, to their  _ love _ . Ceridwen pushes his tongue into Jasper’s open mouth, exploring and dominating without resistance, sloppy as he smears the taste of the barbarian across his own tongue, flagrantly debauched. It’s filthy, earns Ceridwen a quiet whine from Jasper, which he also savours before swallowing down. 

It’s not long before Jasper is shoving Ceridwen off of him, a mercy to their lungs really, seeing as both of them are completely breathless and weak in the knees. The tiefelf’s red eyes are bright, almost glowing in the darkness with their intensity as he stares down at the drow, breathing heavily, not daring to say a word. They let a comfortable silence wash over them, let their desires fizzle into something less feral, more manageable, subdued. This  _ something _ passes between them, utterly unmentionable in its connotation, neither of them willing to put it into words, because that would require acknowledging what  _ it _ is, and at this point in time, not a single one of them is ready to deal with that. So for now, they share a final, gentle kiss, clean themselves up, and return to their places amongst their companions, oblivious as always. 


End file.
